


Mar the Raider Kid

by Marivia



Category: Fallout - Fandom
Genre: No graphic violence as of yet, Other, will be in the future potentially
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-06-13 14:14:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15366429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marivia/pseuds/Marivia
Summary: The origin story of my Fallout 4 main character, who is a raider not the SS. Location based out of southwestern Connecticut, but with the divergent timeline and Fallout themes in mind.





	1. The Nest of Ashen Creek

It was a new morning, the sun carried its way into the horizon of the wasteland of Great Park City causing the marsh waters to glisten. Nestled within the reeds of the wetland just outside sprawled a series of wooden docks flanked by shoddy huts, shacks and lean-tos. The Nest, as it was called by the raiders lived there, was still and silent as the majority of its residents lay scattered about unconscious.

A night of partying left The Nest in a state of disorder, scattered with liquor bottles both whole and shattered and a wide assortment of used drug paraphernalia. It wasn’t an uncommon thing for the people who lived there to celebrate without reason, but last night was different. Last night was Mar’s birthday.

Mar was one of the few children who lived within The Nest and the night prior they celebrated her eighth birthday. Despite the exhaustion that consumed much of the settlement, Mar sprung awake the moment the sun came through the cracks in the wall beside her lofted bed. The girl’s bedraggled ash blonde hair stuck out and up in several directions. Her bright blue eyes contrasting against her dirty face darted immediately to the nook between her reed filled mattress and the wall.

She slowly reached for the gap, anxious and stiff as she did so. Her fingers settled on cold metal and her face immediately lit up with excitement. With a swift motion she pulled free a sawed-off shotgun, looking at it wide eyed and smiling. It wasn’t just a dream, she really was given her first gun last night and she was ecstatic. She frantically reached back within the space to yank out a worn leather belt and with a few attempts managed to tie it to both ends of the gun as a makeshift strap.

She looked over the slightly neglected, rust speckled gun in admiration before she looped the strap over herself, letting it rest on her back as she launched herself from the bunk. The heavy thud she landed with caused the planks beneath her feet to creak and resulted in a woman’s hand reaching out from the bottom bunk. The hand with its red painted, pointed nails swiped to grab the girl, though it dropped tiredly before it made contact. The young raider grinned at lower bunk and the back of the dark haired woman’s head before shuffling forward to fix the sheets that covered her. After she mentally praised herself for her kind action she crouched to reach under the bed.

Mar pulled out boots two sizes too big for her that were poorly mended and still filled with holes. She didn’t put them on until she got past the thick curtain that was their doorway and onto the boardwalk. She looked down the boardwalk pulling strips of fabric from out of them before stepping into them in a series of wobbly motions. With their lack of laces and half missing rings to loop the nonexistent laces through in the first place she had to settled for tightly tying the boots around the ankle. After a few test sways she began walkway, looking over the results of last nights party.

Mar wasn’t sure what day yesterday even was, but she knew it was summer from the heat and her impromptu birthday celebration. Some of the strewn about raiders were resting alongside massive avian creatures who looked at the girl as she paced by. The man sized rails rustled their dark plumage, some rising to stand on their long, arm-thick legs. A few disgruntled raiders were dropped to the ground in the process and begrudgingly decided to wake up.

It seemed rather sudden when all the remaining birds rose to their feet as she continued shuffling down the walk, several of them let out ear piercing shrieks to the sky and the whole of them took off into the air over the mash. This was a morning ritual, and the shrieks didn’t wake anyone who wasn’t already up. They were the source of the raider group’s name after all.

The Shriekers were one of the larger and more successful pack of raiders surrounding the Great Park City, known for their large, monstrous avian pets and the shrill battle cries that they shared. They were a force of organized chaos, fueled by their own home brewed chem known as “Bird Brain”, which made them vicious and reckless and came with the risk of their minds being permanently fried. Though in the wasteland chems could get you a long way and make you plenty of bottle caps ransacking settlements and hijacking caravans was more to their tastes.This of course made them many, many enemies but their numbers and wetland home kept any concern of retaliation at a minimum.

Their marshy home terrain was a perfect form of protection in itself, but was filled with a plethora of traps and mines on top of it. They navigated the murky waters and muddy ground with a series of narrow, submerged walkways that only they and the birds knew the locations of. Mar was proud of her raider family, hoping to someday be just like the rest of them. Her new gun was the first step.

Once Mar hit the end of the boardwalk she slowly looked up the guard tower with pursed lips, feet set wide and took a brief moment for mental preparation. The structure had no ladder and was made to be scaled by full grown people, not a runty kid, yet that didn’t stop her. She struggled with footing in her oversized boots and almost lost her grip twice along the way. The fact that she was able to catch herself both times was a clear sign to her that she was ready for her new weapon, and she was excited to show it off to her favorite guard.

She flopped her way onto the platform on her belly, scrambling to her feet as the begoggled marksman looked over his shoulder at her, taking a bite out of his mutated fruit and briefly exposing his mangled mouthful of teeth. He was older than most of the others, between the chems and fighting very few members of her family hit the point of grey hair but the man with the sagging jowls sported a full, wild head of it. He pointed with the mutfruit holding hand in the direction of another raider out cold on the tower floor. He was quite a bit younger, just into his adult years with his vibrant red hair covered in mud from the marsh. He was snoring loudly and drooling in excess as the old man patted the floor next to him on the edge of the tower.

Mar carefully made her way to the ledge beside him, letting her stringy legs hang over as the old man took another bite of the fruit. She stared at the slacking tower guard, an impish smirk growing on her face before the thrice bitten mutfruit was held in front of her face, interrupting her mischievous planning. She scooped it into her hands and took a bite of it before the old man finally spoke out garbled words, “Wha’ya thinkin’ wid th’look of yers? Trouble innit?”

Her gaze darted between the two guards and came back quick enough for her to catch the old man wink. That was the okay she was hoping for and a smile spread its way across her face. The girl slid over to the sleeping marksman and slowly pushed her feet into his side. He barely budged though she put her all into it. The old man reached past her to scoop his hand underneath his dozing partner and with a single motion flipped him over the edge of the tower.

He hit the brackish water with a splash heavy enough to cause the tower to sway and loud enough to rouse a few of the sleeping raiders nearby, some of whom were now soaked. On a slight delay the redheaded man rose out of the water with a gasp, his coughing and yelling causing nearly the rest of the Shriekers to wake and a swarm of their large birds to take flight. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you!” The red faced man hollered up at the tower as Mar’s face peeked over the edge, her eyes sparkling with playful delight as she bit into her breakfast. Her joy was cut short as he drew his rifle, taking a wobbly aim on her. Before she even pulled back she had gunfire in her left ear and dropped her the fruit to the floor. She watched the bullet fly down towards the disgruntled redhead, just barely missing him and causing him to drop his own gun into the muck at his feet.

The old man growled down, but with the ringing in her ears and his mumbled way of speaking she only caught the last of the yelling, “Nex’ time I won’t be missin’. Fuck off!” He grabbed the little raider by her gunstrap and tugged her from the ledge to his side, clear amusement in his words, “Th’shiddy shot h’ is I shoul’da jus’ shot ‘im.” He paused, prodding at her shoulder before he tacked on, “Dun’snitch t’yer folks, hm? All you, tha’ mess.” He scooped up the mutfruit, blew on it to try and clean it and failed before handing it back to her. Upon taking it she gave him a firm nod of understanding, finally peeping up, “Got’cha, not a word, Gramps!” By the expression he didn’t seem to like being called Gramps, but he said nothing of it.


	2. Family Business

The little raider sat next to Gramps as she ate the rest of the mutfruit, which she offered back to him several times in the process as she rambled on about her new gun. He gave the occasional nod or smiled briefly as he scanned the area around them, he nervously bared his teeth and softly said, “Incomin’ fer ya, kid.”

A woman’s voice carried up the tower, “Mar! Get your ass down here!” The tall, shapely woman at the base had her hands on her hips, her eyes narrowed as the girl peeked over. The little raider looked back at the greying man who gave her a shrug. With a groan Mar half climbed, half fell down the guard post. Once her slightly too large boots set down on the wooden walkway, the small girl looked defiantly up at her mother who stood by a still soaked, red-headed slacker of a guard.

Mar’s mother was an intimidating and beautiful woman aptly named Babydoll, at least in appearance alone. Her large coal colored eyes and full lips were set on a tanned, round face framed with dark marcelled locks, a hairstyle that Mar often sat and watched her mother painstakingly achieve. She had a full figure that always looked good in leathers and powerful arms she gained from her passion for large weapons.

The little raider admired her mother’s strength and fearlessness and tried to emulate her, though her efforts did little. Mar considered Babydoll the most beautiful person she’d ever seen and much of The Nest agreed. They also agreed that Mar look far more like her father, which was unfortunate.

Babydoll continued glaring until the small raider’s rebellious stance deflated with a very quiet whine. Her mother’s hands slipped from her waist to cross her midsection sternly as she quirked a brow at her daughter. After a few moments of silence in which Babydoll was certain Mar’s little show of disobedience was over with, she spoke quiet and calm, gesturing to the red-head with her chin, “Apologize to Toad over there, he’s family.”

Toad, or so she called him, spoke up with a cautious stammer, “A-actually ma’am my n-name i-” He didn’t get to finish before being shushed angrily. He accepted his new name with a startled jump and rapid nods. The woman tapped her foot impatiently, eyes still glued to her daughter. A deep frown slowly set on the girl’s face as she dragged out, “Okay mama.”

Mar moved in front of the red-headed man and looked up at him with a glare, feeling fortunate that her mother couldn’t see her expression from where she stood. Regardless of her bratty expression her tone sounded particularly genuine, “I’m sorry I pushed you off the tower. It won’t happen again.”

“There, easy!” Her mother exclaimed and though Toad looked less than content with the apology he didn’t push it further. Before the girl could even move her mother grabbed her by the shoulder and whipped her around to face the far end of the walkway, “Go see your father. He’s in the lab, hm?”

The young girl nodded slow and understanding, looking up to her mom only briefly before bolting down the creaking planks. She had to duck and dodge a few people on the way down, including a small pack of kids who yelled at her as she zipped past them, “Where are you going! We’re going to dig up mussels!”

As much as she wanted to dig through the muck of the marsh the young girl wanted to see her father even more. He’d been particularly busy for the last few days and save for a brief appearance at her birthday celebration he’d been held up with his chemwork.  
Mar skidded to a stop in front of the lab, which was really just another shack, albeit one that wasn’t as small as the rest in The Nest with the added luxury of a holeless roof. Her hand shot for the handle of the metal door and while it turned with ease she couldn’t manage to push it open. Her brows furrowed and her lips pursed in frustration before she launched herself bodily into the door. With a heavy thud the door flew open, slammed against the wall and allowed the small raider to tumble into the room. She fell just short of a rickety metal shelf with an assortment of precariously perched glass jars and bottles of unmarked material. She stared up at the shelving unblinking before letting out a sigh of relief.

As the panic left her, a man with a protective mask obscuring his face leaned with his own gap filled one, “Your mom send you?” Mar nodded firmly, dusting herself off with little effect, “She did.”

“Can’t your kid knock, Cork?” A sour toned woman in a patched up hazmat suit said, not looking over from the chemistry equipment she was making use of. The smiling man looked to the irritated woman briefly while snickering, “I’m sure she can, but will she?” He crouched getting himself at eye level with his daughter, trying to stifle his laughter, “Have you considered knocking?”

“Nope! Not once!” She stated proudly. Her father could no longer contain himself and caved to his hysterical laughter, patting Mar firmly on the shoulder in approval. Mar saw her father in a very different light than she did her mother. While she admired and respected her mother the intimidation she felt from Babydoll was something she never felt around her father. Even among the Shriekers he was considered an eccentric and no one quite understood what about him appealed to Babydoll, but Mar did. He was fun.  
Cork was a sinewy man with choppy hair the color of soggy hay, a feature Mar shared with him. His piercing blue eyes were unable to balance out his pockmarked face, thrice broken nose and splotchy complexion. His wild expressions and his airheaded personality didn't help either. What he lacked in looks and general sanity he made up for in intelligence, but that was one of her father’s traits she wasn’t fortunate enough to inherit.

As her father stood he scooped Mar up. She was pretty excited at the opportunity to take her father’s mask off and look it over, which she did and he did not protest. He paced towards the door, waving with his free hand to his coworker, “Important things to do. Very important. I’m sure you have this handled Lily, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” The woman dragged on her words in a tone so heavily coated in sarcasm it was seeping through her protective gear, “I definitely can handle replenishing from last night’s chaos on my own. Just by myself.”

“Perfect!” Cork said. The sarcasm was either lost on him or he was entirely indifferent to it as he didn’t stop on his way out the door. Mar placed on her father’s mask which was quite a bit too large for her and as she held it in place she finally asked, “Where are we going?”

“Well, baby bird, we are leaving the nest.” The man clearly found his own joke hilarious, though his laughter was drowned out with Mar’s shrill of excitement, which only made him laugh more. The moment he placed her back down on the planks she bolted, still yelling in excitement, but now also bragging to everyone along the way to The Nest’s edge.


End file.
